A car door slammed outside. I rushed to get all my papers and pictures in order and stuffed them inside a spare manila folder. I shut down Dad’s computer. By the time Mom walked through the front door, I was standing in the kitchen.
“There’s my girl,” she said, dropping her purse on the sofa. “Have you already eaten?”
“No,” I said. The syllable came out shakier than I intended. I cleared my throat. “I’m not hungry.”
“I was thinking Chinese,” Mom said, unwrapping the scarf around her neck. With the folder in my hand, I thundered up the stairs.
Thirty-Six
Now
Today is our last day with students. They’ll be dismissed at 11:30, leaving us the afternoon to have meetings and work in our rooms. I say goodbye to my students in each block. I’m always amazed at how mature they seem by the end of the semester. They’ve realized they only have one more year in this place. After that, college and the world await.
I hope Adam will be all right. He nods at me as he leaves. Ben and Devon and the others do the same. Melanie pauses briefly to ask if I’d be interested in writing her a recommendation letter, so I give her my email address. Darcy exits the room and waves. I sense she wants to speak with me. I sense she feels she should speak to me. But she doesn’t. She wants to leave what she told me about that night in the past, and I support her decision.
Zoey is noticeably not in the room.
I eat lunch alone. My co-workers are eating together in the library, a last-day-of-school tradition, but I’m in no mood to socialize. I’m counting the minutes, worse than I ever have. I can’t wait to get out of this place. I enter the lonely hallway and walk to the restroom. When I return to my classroom, Marge is waiting by the door. She’s holding a cup of coffee in her hands, never giving her system a break from caffeine.
“Missed you in the library,” she says, with a fake positivity in her voice.
I look at her, then put my key in the lock without saying anything.
“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” she asks. “Please.”
“Sure,” I say, pushing open the door and walking through. She follows me.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she starts, raising her free hand in defense. “And looking back on the past couple of days, I regret not talking to you again before going to Bowles.”
“So, is this an apology?”
“As a friend, yes,” she says, placing her coffee cup on a nearby desk. “But as a teacher, I felt you were invading Zoey’s privacy by looking into her background. I still think that. I felt I owed it to her to make Principal Bowles aware of your allegations.”
“Bowles said he was going to add this incident to my tenure application.” I stare at her. She needs to know how much this ordeal is disrupting my life. How much Zoey is disrupting my life.
“You know that wasn’t my intention.” Her foot starts tapping. “I’ll speak with Bowles about it.”
“I’m assuming Bowles told you Zoey wasn’t in my class today,” I say, dryly.
“Yes, he did.”
“What’s Zoey say about being removed?”
“Nothing, really. She doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact you dislike her.”
Of course she would act like I’m not a threat. She doesn’t think I am. And it makes me appear crazier if I’m the one making a big fuss.
“Zoey told Bowles I confronted her about Darcy,” I say, popping a small hole in her nonchalant narrative. “That was a lie.”
“She didn’t say anything to me about a confrontation,” she says, cocking her head to the side. “Look, let’s just put this Zoey business behind us. I don’t want it to hurt our friendship.”
I sense her desperation to make amends, even if she still feels she acted in Zoey’s best interests. “I just want you to be careful, Marge,” I say, willing to let my anger with her go if it will make her more likely to listen. “I know you get along with Zoey, but she worries me.”
“You know what this reminds me of?” she says, trying to sound positive. “One of those wacky photos that can be two different things. When you see Zoey, it’s like you see a lamp, but I see a boot. Or you see a lady’s face and I see a plant. Either way, it’s harmless, right?”
“Just be careful,” I say, gliding past her description of the situation.
“Again, I’m sorry if I didn’t go about things the proper way. I really thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Thank you.”
“You going to Prom on Friday?” she asks, lightening the mood.
“My required event was Spring Fling this year,” I say. “I want to get through the in-service tomorrow and officially start summer vacation.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” Marge says, for once choosing not to guilt me for my lack of involvement. “You know I’ll be there. I practically planned the thing.”
“What about Zoey?” I ask. I can’t resist.
“She’s going, too. I’m pulling the parent card when it comes to any after-parties, though.” She smiles with pride. “I’m making her clean up the place, then she’ll return home with me.”
“Good.” If Zoey was staying at my house, she’d be locked in a cage.
“Have a good day, okay?” she says, walking closer to the door.
I watch her walk into the hallway, hoping I’m not as nuts as she thinks I am.
I head out ten minutes earlier than required. I don’t want to run into anyone, especially Bowles, in the parking lot. It was bad enough I had to listen as he presented a year-end meeting in the auditorium. At least I had the buffer of the rest of the staff between us.
The lot looks empty with all the students gone. As I’m walking, a rogue soccer ball rolls past me, stopping only inches away
